In Their Bones
by nlizzette7
Summary: Four little liars have four big secrets. And Alison will never really die, will she? AU, rated T for language and dark themes.


**Hannah**

Hannah still does it. But it's fine because _this is the last time I swear no really it is I'm better now. I'm fine._

She likes it. She likes the cold tiles against her knees and bowing over the bowl and sticking her finger in [farther in, what are you so fucking afraid of?] – it's like a ritual. It's familiar, it's consistent. Like a prayer.

A prayer to be skinny.

Thin.

Beautiful.

Alison taught her how to do it. Late at night and don't make too much noise and grab every snack you can find but don't let the wrappers crinkle because then they'll hear. Then they'll know.

And then they sit in the middle of all of it – chips and brownies and cookies and those cheese crackers that Hannah actually really loves. And it's like they're not doing anything wrong for a minute, like they're just two normal girls who just love to eat and talk and laugh and giggle late into the night.

And Hannah doesn't know how losing weight could be this fun, _and why doesn't everyone just do it this way?_

And then Alison takes her hand, crumbs dancing between their fingers, leads her to the bathroom, tells her it's time to make it go away. Hannah wants to know what that means, but Alison doesn't answer [Alison doesn't care]. She makes Hannah watch her as she leans over and lets it all out and it's an awful noise and it's actually so disgusting. And when it's done, Alison wipes a small tear from the corner of her eye and points to the toilet.

But Hannah doesn't want to anymore.

_But is that what you want, Hannah? Nobody wants to be Porky's boyfriend. Guys don't like feeling up fat_. _Jesus, Hannah. Stop fucking crying and kneel down. It's easy. I'm just trying to help you._

_We can be beautiful together._

And Ali has a warm smile [but it never reaches her eyes] that makes Hannah feel like they have their own secret _something _that none of the other girls have.

So Hannah does what Ali tells her to do.

And it's the first of four hundred and fifty-two times. Because she's counting. She's setting a new record.

_Do you hear that Ali? Do you see me? Are you proud?_

It's all gone now.

:::

**Aria**

Under Aria's bed [in a box in a folder in another folder] are twenty-two suicide notes. She likes to write them after she's done cutting so that the blood will roll right off of her and splatter all across the pages like a beautiful red pattern. _Maybe it's paint maybe it's juice maybe it's nail polish._

Maybe Aria's not actually so fucked up.

She writes stupid dramatic things like, _If you're reading this I'm already gone. I just couldn't survive this pain. I'll miss you all._

But sometimes she writes honest things [because death is truth] like she fucking hates her father, and she knows that her little brother is gay and he should just come out already, and she thinks that her mother will probably die alone because she's too afraid to make her life count.

Sometimes Aria pulls the long sleeves back on, _scrubs scrubs scrubs _off the red, leaves the box open on her bed with all of the letters spilling out.

Sometimes Aria waits for someone to find them.

The only one who's come close is Ali [was Ali _was _Ali]. A reckless afternoon, Aria doing the deed right there in her backyard, watching it mix with the grass all red and green like Christmas. How pretty.

_What the fuck are you doing?_

She's not – She's not doing anything. She's just –

_I always knew you were a sick little freak. _Laughter. Laughter?

But please don't tell anyone. Ali can't tell anyone.

_Just fucking relax. I'm not going to tell anyone that you slice yourself. It'll be our little secret._

[There are never any little secrets.]

There's one last letter addressed to Alison DiLaurentis. Because Aria actually always hated her. Alison is a secret thief, takes your life and makes it her own. Weaving and weaving like a fucking spider until she has everything and everything is stuck to her.

But Aria can put out that letter all she wants. It won't matter.

Alison already beat her to it.

:::

**Emily**

Emily is a slut. [No, but really, don't tell anyone.] Because she likes girls, and lesbians aren't sluts. Girls who like girls are just _precious _and _untouchable _and so _taboo_.

But Emily likes anyone with blue eyes and blonde hair and a mysterious smile. Anyone whose hands on her can take her back to the tree with Alison – her first kiss, her first everything.

So she lets whoever do whatever as long as they fit the description, as long as she doesn't have the stare too long, as long as she can get caught up in little glimpses of blonde and blue. _Blonde and blue and blonde and blue and blonde and blue_.

Just keep pretending.

Emily is obsessed. _Emily is infatuated_. Only Ali, only Ali, only Ali. Sometimes she whispers that to herself at night. It helps her go to sleep, and it helps her remember why she does what she does.

Other times, Emily picks up the phone [no one's there] and talks to the empty line for hours, giggling and teasing until she can really hear Ali's voice talking back. Until Ali's come home to her.

On a Sunday, Emily goes down to the lake – to the tree – like she always does. She likes to play it out in her head, go back in time. She leaves the rest of the world behind, and the earth just stops revolving [she swears it does] to make the impossible possible.

Ali's always waiting for her on the tree.

_Blonde and blue and blonde and blue and blonde._

"I've been waiting for you. You're never going to forget me are you? You're never going to leave me. Right, Emily?"

No, Ali. It's only you.

:::

**Spencer**

_And Spencer, how do you feel about that?_

How does she feel about hating Ali? She feels like she fucking hates Ali.

You see, Spencer has some issues with anger. Spencer likes to punch and scream and hurt. Hurt. Hurt hurt hurt.

Mostly hurts herself.

"God, Spencer. That's a nasty bruise. What happened?"

_I hit myself against the wall because I can't be perfect why can't I be perfect why am I never enough?_

"I tripped the other day."

Like most bad things, it starts with Ali. Ali is everyone's cup of tea, and Spencer is hot chocolate in the summer. Useless. _Your shadow burnt out my light, Alison. Your shadow burnt everything._

So, one night, Alison saunters in wearing the perfect dress [that's like the _perfect_ dress, literally perfect, gold beading and lace trimming and stitched neckline], and Spencer knows this because it's _her _dress. It's Spencer's homecoming dress that she custom ordered just for her.

_But just for her means Ali too._

"Take it off."

"No. I think it looks better on me, Spence."

"Take it _off_, Ali,"

"Maybe you should settle for something a little plainer. Something a little more _Spencer_." And then there is a sharp slap right across Ali's face, and Ali just stands there and smiles with empty eyes like a broken doll.

And Spencer only has her anger.

And then Alison dies. After the funeral, Spencer sneaks into the DiLaurentis' house [watch the alarm]. And she marches straight to Alison's room [watch the caution tape]. And she pulls the dress from Alison's silver hangers and strips down and slips it on.

And it fits her perfectly. Her, not Ali.

Because she's Spencer _fucking_ Hastings. And she's in control.

And Emily is in love.

And Aria is sad.

And Hannah is beautiful.

:::

Yes, there are secrets.

_They watch as the diggers pour dirt over the casket, her parents cry, flowers are dropped._

But they belong to Ali now.


End file.
